No Woman No Cry

Okay, I can accept this, just balance the bitter with the sweet. Yesterday I got some news I've been waiting for. A couple of weeks ago I had my annual mammogram. Two days later I got a call from the radiologist’s office saying there was something suspicious, that I need to come back for further testing. I’ve been down this road before and have had surgery (not just biopsies, but the full-tilt boogie with general anesthesia, stitches, and fear, but—thank you, Lord—both turned out to be benign). Here we go again. I wasn’t panicking but certainly was hoping and trusting that it would be okay, no matter what. The news was good. The short answer is everything is okay, no surgery, just come back next year. Thank you, Lord, for favors large and small.

So I will take the water-damaged drywall in my kitchen in stride. It’s just a nuisance. It probably was caused by an overflowed toilet incident in the bathroom upstairs. I dug out all the crumbling drywall and waited for two weeks, watching to see if there were any more signs of water. No more water. So I’ve begun patching the holes and soon I’ll get to paint my entire kitchen. It was painted a few years ago, too long to get by just touching up the damaged part. Oh well. It's just drywall, paint, time, and a few days of disorder.

When I had my most recent breast surgery several years ago, I wore headphones in the operating room. I went out and came to listening to Bob Marley . . . No Woman No Cry seemed perfect for the occasion. I just may go on a Bob Marley binge while I’m painting the kitchen to remind me that I can handle what I have to handle, that God will get me through both big fears and minor aggravations. No Woman No Cry.